Authors: J. Kent Holloway
The knight
glared at Emir, rubbing his bruised jaw before continuing.
“Anyway, as we
made our way down the stairs, I spied a shadow moving below us on the
staircase. I’ve seen the way that foul creature moves with my own eyes and I’d
have sworn it was the same beast…so I attacked.”
“That was
rather brave of you,” said the physician with a warm smile.
“I’m not sure
about bravery, sir. It was more out of fear than anything else,” the knight
continued. “Anyway, it turns out it wasn’t the Djinn. It was this bloke here.
It’s eerie how much he moves like the demon, though.”
“Yes,” said
Gregory, looking the cleric up and down.
“Very
eerie
, indeed.
Anyway, gentlemen,
now that the excitement is over, shall we proceed?”
With everyone’s
assent, including a bruised Horatio and a bewildered Samuel, the group moved
forward into the recently excavated tunnel.
There were no
torches in this section of the excavated tunnels, so the only light came from
those held by Gregory, Gerard, and Al-Dula. Each flicker of flame cast dark
shadows that seemed to sway rhythmically to the light, making it difficult to
see sudden drops in the stone floor that could cause one to stumble.
The group moved
slowly, stooping low to avoid hitting their heads on the cross beams supporting
the ceiling, for about a quarter of a mile until they came to a rather vast
chamber.
“My men
unearthed this four months ago,” said Gregory, walking into the center of the
great hall with arms spread wide in pride. “The chamber has been examined by
both a Roman priest and a Jewish rabbi. They both agree on its origin…as well
as purpose.”
Each man stood
awestruck by the sight. Spanning nearly fifty feet in height with a vaulted
ceiling, the chamber was ornately decorated and trimmed with gold. Lavish
relief carvings and mosaics covered the smooth surface of the walls—scenes
depicting great battles and miracles from God intervening in the lives of the
Jewish nation.
But the baron’s
guests gasped in near unison at what he’d brought them all here to see. Along
the circular walls of the chamber stood twelve large statues that towered over
the guests like dark juggernauts guarding the gates of Hell itself. Each figure
was roughly nine feet tall with massive shoulders and arms that gripped the
hilts of enormous bronze swords. Their faces, malformed in ancient clay, were
depictions of various animals.
An eagle.
A goat.
A bear.
A
serpent.
And so on, with the most striking of all
resembling that of a roaring lion.
“What is this
place?” asked Al-Dula, his eyes wide as he scanned each of the statues. “What
do your clergymen say this was?”
“That, my
friend,
is the question,” the baron said, his sightless,
graying eye shining brightly in the torch light. “From what we have determined
this was the central hub, of sorts, to a vast repository known only in whispers
as
Solomon’s Vault
. It was
constructed directly underneath what was once Solomon’s Temple.”
Complete
silence reigned throughout the chamber. No one moved as they absorbed this
information. The implications were staggering to all save Horatio and his
squire and Gregory could not have been more pleased. It was exactly the
reaction he had hoped.
“So that means
we are directly beneath the Sacred Dome?” asked Al-Dula.
“Exactly.”
“But how has no
one ever found this place?”
Tufic
asked. “The Temple
was destroyed over a thousand years ago. Jews, Romans, Saracens, Christians…all
these have searched this land high and low for any secret treasure chambers
such as this. How could no one know this was here?”
“Because no one
knew where to look,” said Gregory. “By the time of Christ, the Jews had all but
forgotten this place even existed. It was built by Solomon himself, well before
Jerusalem was sacked by the Babylonians. It, at one time, was his personal
treasure vault.”
“Treasure?”
asked Gerard.
“Don’t become
too excited, Captain. This chamber was not for just anything that glittered or
shined. It was for objects of a particular variety.
For
things beyond all the treasures of the earth.”
The Saracen
warlord walked over to the southern wall and examined an intrinsically detailed
painting of a group of men carrying a strange looking gold box. Lightning and
fire seemed to surround not only the box, but the men carrying it as well.
“You’re talking about the Ark of the Testimony, aren’t you?” Al-Dula hissed, a
look of true understanding washing across his face. “Don’t tell me you have
found it!”
“No, I haven’t.
At least not yet.
But then, as you are aware, it was
not for the Ark that I have been searching all these years,” said the baron.
Al-Dula nodded.
“The
Urim
and
Thummim
.
The stones of ‘Revelation’ and ‘Truth.’”
Gregory smiled.
“Well, that is what I was originally searching for, yes,” he said, glancing
slyly toward Monsignor Tertius. “But I long since gave up that search for
something…much more tantalizing.”
“What? You’ve
given up?” the Vatican priest asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Lord Gregory,
this is most displeasing. His
excellency
, the Pope,
himself specifically commissioned you to find the stones. When he hears of
this…”
The baron waved
him off. “Please, do shut up,” he growled, spinning around and pointing at one
of the statues. “I’ve no interest in your opinion in this matter. Nor that of
the Holy See. What I’m presenting to you is much more powerful than anything
the divining stones of David could provide.”
The guests
stared at the clay figure to which Gregory was pointing. A look of confusion
plastered across each man’s face.
“What?
These statues?”
Tertius asked harshly. “You have forsaken
your quest for a handful of old clay totems?”
A hiss of
understanding erupted from Al-
Dula’s
lips as he moved
over to the lion-headed statue and examined it more closely. Its frame was
littered with intricately carved pictograms and designs, depicting what looked
to be some type of fierce battle scene. Script from some unknown tongue was
etched along its arms, legs, and forehead with exacting precision.
The Saracen
spun around to face Gregory, a look of awe on his face. “Are
these
what
I think they are?”
The baron
nodded with a smile. “They are.”
Al-
Dula’s
eyes widened. “But are they active? Have you
reactivated them yet?”
The group
stared silently at the exchanged until Monsignor Tertius cleared his throat and
interjected. “See here,” he began. “What are you two going on about? What on
earth is so special about these statues?”
“Allow me start
from the beginning, Your Excellency,” the baron cooed, moving over to the
figure whose head was shaped like a boar. “When I first arrived here, I was
driven to succeed in the Pope’s task in recovering the fabled
Urim
and
Thummim
. Through several
years of research, I’d discovered that one of the last known locations for
those relics was hidden somewhere underground.
Some kind of
vault created by King Solomon.”
He nodded over at the Saracen warlord
and held up the medallion that hung from his neck. “Thanks to this heirloom
provided by our friend Al-Dula here, I was able to determine the precise
location and immediately set about excavating. Six months ago, my men finally
broke through and discovered this central Hub.”
Gregory raised a
gloved hand and caressed the broad arm of the statue and smiled.
“That’s when I
discovered these and my mission immediately changed.”
The monsignor
turned around in a full circle, examining the Hub and the six darkened
passageways that lined its rounded wall. “I don’t understand. Surely you
searched these tunnels further for the stones,” Tertius said. “You said so
yourself that they were last known to be within these walls. A little more
effort on your part and surely you will find them.”
The baron
whirled around and glared at the priest. “You’re missing the point, Monsignor.
The stones are useless.
Mere baubles for the Church to hide
within their own vaults.
Completely useless to
anyone.”
He smiled once more, trying to calm himself.
“But
these statues.
Your
Grace, these mere ‘totems’
as you call them represent near limitless power.
A force
which nothing on earth could even remotely hope to stop.”
“I must admit,
I’m a bit taken aback by all this.
Confused.”
“Of course you
are,” Gregory mumbled, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I would
expect nothing less from someone with as little imagination as you.”
At this,
Tufic
cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Monsignor, I
believe I begin to understand.
These things that line the
wall…Lord Gregory does
not believe them to be mere statues.” The
physician looked over at the baron. “You believe these are the twelve golems
that are said to have been created by a vengeful wife of King Solomon, don’t
you? The ones that legends say nearly destroyed all of Jerusalem until they
were imprisoned by the king himself.”
“Indeed,” said
Gregory. “But I don’t just believe that’s what these things are. I
know
it.
“But how?
How can you know for sure?”
“Never mind
that,” growled the Monsignor. “What in the world is a golem? Why would it
supersede the importance of the
Urim
and
Thummim
?””
“Because, Your
Grace, the Seeing Stones are simply powerless relics,” the baron said with a
sigh. “But golems…golems are something much more useful. You see, they are
living, breathing creatures…as Adam, they too were formed from the dust of the
ground and were given life by the mystical means of Solomon’s very own Seal.
“
Tufic
is correct. These are the very same that are said to
have been created by a woman forced into marriage with the king. She despised
him and she loathed the kingdom. So, she tricked him. She promised to show him
the secret that her own people had been doing for centuries…creating clay
automatons that would do the bidding of the one who brought them to life.”
“Blasphemy!”
the priest said. “Only God can create life. For anyone else to even attempt it
would be…”
“Disastrous,”
the physician said. “Catastrophic. As Solomon
himself
discovered.”
“Only because
he had no way to know of his wife’s plan,” protested the baron. “By the time he
realized what was happening, it was too late. She’d already given her creations
their instructions and there was nothing anyone could do.”
Al-Dula stepped
in between Gregory and the others.
“You didn’t
answer my question, Lord Gregory,” he said. “Are they active?”
The baron
smiled at the Saracen for several seconds without saying a word, then shrugged.
“Yes,” he finally said. “In a manner of speaking, the golems you see before you
are awake even now.”
“In a manner of speaking?”
Al-Dula asked. “What is that
supposed to mean?”
“It means that
they’ve been active since they were first animated. They do not die. They do
not sleep. They are, as far as I know, fully aware of us and our presence
within their prison.”
“Then why
aren’t they moving? Why not command them to do something so that we might know
the truth of the matter?”
Gregory let out
frustrated laugh.
“Because I do not have the power to command
them just yet.
Rakeesha
, the wife of Solomon who
created them, was their last master. They would only respond to her
instructions. I am still attempting to discover the means to wrest control of
them. I have no doubt that a scroll I’m currently searching for, the
Sefer
Yetzhirah
, or
Book of Creation, will provide me with an incredible fount of information on
this subject. This book is said to have been kept in a secret library within
these very walls and contains specific details on how to construct these
creatures. Until I find those instructions, I’m afraid, the golems are—”
“Excuse me,
sir,” came Horatio’s grating voice. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but has anyone
seen Samuel?”
They all turned
to face the knight with looks of incredulity on their faces. Gregory glared at
Horatio. He wasn’t sure how much more of this imbecile and his idiot cousin he
could take. What did
he
care where Samuel had wandered
off…
Oh no
.
“Where is he?”
said Gregory, suddenly anxious over the chilling thought that had just occurred
to him. “Find him! We must find him now.”
Gerard bolted
toward far left passage in the opposite end of the chamber from which they’d
entered. The rest of the group waved their torches in front of them, peering
into any dark recesses they could find within the vast Hub.
“Samuel!”
Horatio’s voice echoed through miles of tunnel. No response. “Samuel! This
isn’t funny now.”
Still nothing.
Gregory turned
on the knight, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him close. His foul breath
and spit flew into Horatio’s face.
“Tell me now,
fool, did you not tell me that your squire was captured for a time by the demon?”
the baron hissed, trying to keep the others from hearing. Waiting for the
knight to respond, Gregory scanned the chamber to account for each member of
their party.
Gerard was
nowhere to be seen, but then, he’d gone off in search of the squire. Al-Dula
and the Saracen cleric were to his right. The priest from the Vatican was
behind him.
Wait. Where was
the physician? He was missing as well. This could not be happening. Not now.
“Tell me!” he
shouted, drawing the attention of the would-be Caliph.
“Um, yes sir.
He was taken by the creature…but only for a bit. I found him soon enough. No
harm done.”
Pushing the
knight away, Gregory spun around, spittle flying from his lips as he yelled.
“If that whelp finds it…” the baron’s thought was interrupted by the sound of
Tufic’s
voice coming from their original tunnel.
“He didn’t go
back the way we came,” the physician said as he walked up to Gregory and the
worried knight.